Family Matters Most
by CowboySteel
Summary: Dean's not feeling to well, and Sam knows it. But Dean insists he's okay and the hunt continues. Expect a lot of Hurt!Sick!Dean and a smidgeon of Hurt!Fatherly!John, and Sammy is just plain cute! WEECHESTER FIC, SAM 10, DEAN 14 xx please r'n'r xx
1. Chapter 1

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good evening my pallys! How do? I hope this doesn't disappoint, i think this is okay, but you'll have to tell me...please! Also, no angst, much, so it might be a welcome relief. xxx

_Read on and don't forget to review at the end. The Winchesters (which i don't own) will come a-knocking if you do...metaphorically speaking haha x_

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"Sammy, will you please stop florencing on me?!" Dean batted Sam's fussing hands away. "It's just a cold, for god's sake…."

Sam looked crestfallen. He loved his big brother and he felt like he could only repay him by looking after him. When Dean would let him.

Dean sneezed loudly, unsuccessfully suppressing a small moan as he wiped his hand on his trousers.

"Dean! That's disgusting!" Sam exclaimed. He wondered where Dean learnt to get so…uncouth. As much as Sam wanted to be like him, he hoped that was one thing that he might not inherit.

"What am I supposed to do with it? Keep it in? Do you know what happens if you keep a sneeze in?" Dean asked his little brother, quietly beckoning him to his side, as if to tell him a secret.

Sam's eyes grew wide. He liked secrets.

"Your eyes fall out!" Dean whispered, laughing as Sam pulled away, jumping in disgust.

"DEAN! That's so…." He cringed.

"Well, now you know. When a guy's gotta sneeze, a guy has got to sneeze…"

Sam squirmed, the very idea of someone's eyes falling out freaking him out enough to stop him sleeping for at least a week. However, there were much more pressing concerns as he saw Dean lower himself onto the bed, his brow furrowed in what, if Sam didn't know better, seemed like pain.

"Dean? Are you okay?" Sam said, walking to his brother's side.

"Yeah, Sammy…I'm good…" He forced a smile but it soon passed into a strained grimace.

"No, your not…I'll go and get dad" Sam was getting worried now, Dean was hardly ever ill, and when he was in pain, the best idea was usually to go and get dad.

"NO!"

Sam whirled round, shocked by the indignance in Dean's voice.

"No, Sam…don't get, dad. I'm fine…"

Sam looked at him disbelieving.

"Seriously, Sammy, I'm fine…I would tell you if I wasn't ," Dean looked away, knowing that his little brother could see straight through him.

He stood up, and closed his eyes against the throbbing in his head. He couldn't let Sammy see.

"Dean, you are so beyond okay…let me get dad-"

"I said no…he'll only get worried…"

Sam bowed his head, ashamed at the way that Dean was so brave and so selfless but when Sam was ill, all the young boy could do was whine. Why couldn't Sam be more like Dean?

"Anyway, we have that hunt tomorrow, and I'll be okay for that, so no need to tell dad is there?"

Sam looked at Dean reproachfully.

"I really should tell dad you know…I don't think he'd be very happy with me…"

"Yeah well, I won't be very happy with you Sammy. I tell ya, you'll be on the business end of my fist if you say a word…" Dean leaned in threateningly, resisting the urge to close his eyes as the room span. Of course it was spinning, it was perfectly normal. Dean wasn't going to pretend he was ill, when he was so obviously fine…

Sam leant back, a little scared but not because of Dean's threat (hell, he'd had more whacks from his little brother than he'd care to mention), but because this close up he could see each bead of sweat that lingered upon his big brother's brow. Dean was really ill.

Sam sighed and moved away.

"Fine, Dean. But if you're still unwell in the morning, you have to tell dad. Okay?"

"Okay, bro." Dean replied quietly, pretending to be engrossed in relacing his boots, when all he was really doing was trying to stay focussed on the room around him.

"Promise?" Sam thought now might be the time to break out the old Sammy eyes.

Dean wouldn't look. There was no way he was going to miss this hunt tomorrow. He'd been waiting for weeks for his dad to let him on another, and these days he was allowed to kill all the big stuff. Who needed a games console, when you could play the real thing?

Even so, the only way he was going to get a quiet night was if he appeased Sammy just this one little thing.

"Promise, Sammy. Now get to sleep, Pastor Jim' coming tomorrow, you don't want to miss all that god-bothering goodness, do ya?"

"It's called faith, Dean" Sam said as he tucked himself in, turning to the wall, his eyelids already drooping.

"Yeah, whatever. Night." Dean got up and tucked the covers in around his little brother properly, Sam making a righteous mess yet again.

"Night."

And Dean was free to go to sleep.

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He fell into a fitful slumber, tossing and turning, trying to ease up on the mattress as it creaked loudly. He didn't want to wake Sammy. He knew can't have been looking good, and the pain in his head was not going to be easy to hide. He couldn't even breathe through his nose, and much to his own disgust, had to leave his mouth open, gaping dumbly, in order to breathe.

He was sweating like a pig, and not just a normal sweaty pig, it was more like a pig who had been ostracised from the pig sweating community for sweating too much. His sheets were wet with the stuff. And his deodorant was supposedly meant to stop this. Useless crap.

He rolled over, halting a coughing fit and consequently gagging, albeit silently, as he tried not to wake his little brother. He couldn't be doing with all that whining now.

He pulled at a tissue from the drawer beside him, and tried to cough, scraping at his throat to get the phlegmy lump that had formed there out. He felt like a freaking olive: stuffed.

He sighed as he rolled onto his back and felt another phlegmy lump gather there. He felt like absolute crap. Not only was he the dirt on someone's shoe, he was the amoeba on the bacteria of that dirt. He was really suffering here. Not that anyone would find out.

No longer able to sleep, but still incredibly exhausted, he laid back and waited until it was time to get up. He looked at his clock. 3 am. That wasn't too bad. Dad would be in at around 5.30 to get them up anyway, and at least this way he'd be able to feign his illness as tiredness because his dad wouldn't know he'd been up for hours.

5.30 came and right on cue, John Winchester burst through the door, pulling the covers off the bed and turning on the light.

"C'mon boys, time to get up now! Rise and shine, Sammy! Dean, get yo' ass together…"

Sam rolled over onto his back and groaned.

"Dad, it's a Saturday…can't we have til 7?"

"Ha, do you think these demons have a lie-in? C'mon the sooner you get up, the sooner you get pancakes…" John left that one hanging for a moment and then laughed as Sam jumped off his bed, and ran into the kitchen, no sign of the tiredness he'd seen just moments before.

Dean sat up in bed, and sighed as he swung his legs round.

"You okay, Dean?"

It took a moment for Dean to even register that someone was talking to him. He flinched and turned around to face his dad, looking somewhat bemused.

"Hmm?"

John cocked his head, concerned at his son's pallor and grogginess. Fine, Dean was no early bird, but he was never usually this tired.

"I asked if you were okay."

Dean smiled, but it was evidently strained.

"Yeah, 'course I am. Raring to go."

He stood up, too quickly, and was forced to plop straight back down again as dizziness overcame his leg muscles. Apparently someone had installed a funfair in Dean's mind today, and waltzers were the main attraction.

John flew to his son's side.

"Dean?"

Dean looked up into his father's worried eyes.

"Yeah, I'm good. Legs just asleep that's all." Dean got up and swallowed the nausea that rose from his stomach. He clenched his fist as he stifled the shiver that ran through his body. He basically did everything he could to make his dad think he was okay. He didn't need the hassle of his eldest being ill.

John watched his son stand up and sighed. Dean wasn't looking too great, but still, surely he'd know if he wasn't feeling his best. First of all, Sam would have told him and not only that, Dean was responsible enough to understand the need to stay off a hunt if he was poorly. Not entirely convinced by his own logic, John walked to the door.

"There's pancakes in the kitchen, when you're ready…"

"Thanks dad," Dean said quietly, a small smile on his face as he realised his father was really making an effort.

He stumbled forward after his father, but soon felt the wave of vomit rising in his throat. He gulped, taking a sip of the milk that lay next to Sam's bed. He wasn't going to throw up, not now, not right before a hunt.

Wincing, he continued forward and plastered on the biggest happy face he'd ever made, ready to show the Winchester world that Dean was fine and dandy.

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"Dean! Psst!" Sam whispered harshly into the darkness.

"Hmm, Ssm?" Dean slurred. He felt weak and tired, and at the moment he was carrying too much. Laden with the duffel bag, he was almost doubling over with that and the added weight of his now heavy limbs. Why, why did he have to make like Hercules? And he didn't even get the fit broad to kiss it better. Life was full of lemons.

"You are swaying, man. You're still ill, aren't you? Dean, you promised," Sam whined, keeping a close eye on his dad who was only just a little bit in front.

"Shut up. I am fine…" He leaned heavily on the sticky wall, the already dark cave going a little bit darker.

"Dean?" Sam was at Dean's side at an instant, a cold, shaking hand on his shoulder. Sam was scared.

"I'm okay, Sam, don't worry." Dean stood up quickly and staggered forward, doing absolutely nothing to reassure his little brother.

"Dean?" Sam grabbed his brother by the arm, surprised at the heat of his skin and just how much the little touch had off balanced the older hunter.

Dean stood and waited for Sam to fill the humid silence. The air in this cave seemed to be getting closer.

"Can't you stop?"

Dean exhaled heavily, swallowing as the dizziness threw his legs into a spasm.

"Leave me alone, okay? Take fine for an answer, dude…"

He continued on, leaving the statement hanging as he remained upright, despite the haze that had seeped into his vision.

He stumbled on a loose rock as his knee buckled a bit. His hand flew to his own forehead as the insistent throbbing returned, and this time with vengeance. Apparently, pain didn't like it when you took paracetamol.

"Hey, boys! Keep up…it's best if we don't separate…" John shouted back, shining his torch through all the nooks and crannies, looking for the tell-tale symbol that would tell him what he was fighting.

Dean looked into his hand, confused to find the torch there hanging limply. He held it out in front of him, trying to focus on the light in order to hide from the darkness that was encroaching on his vision.

Sam could do nothing but watch as his brother stumbled forward, every instinct in his body telling him to scream for his father, but he couldn't. The words failed in his mouth as he remembered the look on Dean's face the night before when he had proposed the same thing.

Dean's torch flew out of his hand again and scattered across the wet floor as Dean's hand pushed at his forehead again, his back hunching as he doubled over in obvious pain.

"DEAN!" Sam shouted, dropping his own torch and running to his brother's side.

Dean groaned loudly, breathing deeply through the pain that was searing through his tummy, his head, his arms, his legs, his…well his entire body, to perfectly honest.

"S'okay… Samm…" The "y" never came out as Dean's knees finally gave into the pressure and collapsed from under him. Sam tried to catch him, but his brother was far too heavy for the small boy to carry and he watched as the older hunter rolled from his arms and into the muddy puddle beneath him.

Eyes widening in panic, Sam stood there for a minute watching as Dean's eyes rolled into the back of his head and his body finally fell limp. Sam gulped.

"DAD!!"

No response.

"DAD!" Sam positively screamed as he stood by the unconscious state of his brother and backed away. He didn't know what to do.

"Sam? Are you in trouble? Where are you?!" John sounded worried, Sam didn't scream for nothing. What if he had missed something?!

"SAM!"

Sam could hear the signs of his dad getting nearer, puddles splashing around him as finally he saw his father career round the corner.

"Sam!" John ran to his side, relieved to see him unharmed, grabbing his youngest son's shoulders and running his eyes across his body just in case.

"Oh thank god!" John tried to pull Sam into a hug, but Sam resisted, just pointing in front of him. "Where's Dean?"

Sam merely continued to point as tears began to creep out.

"Sam, what is i-"

John stopped mid sentence as he saw his eldest son lying in a small pool of muddy water, the torch lying beside him, casting a sliver of light over his too pale face.

"Shit, Dean!" John left Sammy with a quick reassuring squeeze of his shoulder and skidding to kneel at Dean's side.

"C'mon son, wake up. Can you hear me? Open your eyes, Deano…"

Dean's head lolled to the side as his dad pressed his palms to his pale, hot cheeks.

"Dean, come on, show me those brilliant green eyes of yours"

As if on cue, Dean's eyelids fluttered as he fought to get them open.

He sighed with absolute relief as Dean rewarded him to a glimpse of those great big heart-warming eyes of his. They immediately melted his father's heart with just that one, small pleading look as he tried to sit up.

"Hey, hey, take it easy, little guy…" John pulled him close and held him as he got his bearings.

"Less of the little…" Dean rasped. Why did the world insist on spinning at him? They weren't even making it bearable like Kylie did. Oh those sweet gold shorts…

John laughed as he saw his eldest squeeze tighter into the embrace. No one was ever too old for a hug from their father.

Dean's breathing was laboured, and his skin was almost on the point of sizzling. And that was one sausage innuendo Dean didn't want to make.

He shivered and John pulled away, looking into his eyes. Far too bright and glassy. His fever was on the up.

"Right, Dean. We gotta get you outta here…" John made to get up and pull Dean into his arms, but he felt a stern arm on his own.

"No, Dad. You gotta finish the hunt…it's my own fault…"

John was a little taken aback at the strong words coming from his weakened son.

"No, Dean…I can't leave you here like this…Sammy's worried, c'mon, let's go…"

"Dad, no! Keep going, I'm not even that ill…"

Dean clawed his way up the side of the cave and the only thing that stopped him from falling straight back down was the strong arm of his father behind his back.

"Sure, Dean. That's not ill. Oh, Dean, why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well?! This could've waited,"

_Oh, Dean, why didn't I see this coming?_

"People…would…die…we save 'em…dad…need…to…" Dean stopped talking, pausing heavily to catch his breaths which were coming fast and short.

John was filled with pride as he saw the selflessness in his son's actions. This boy was going to be a great hunter someday. And he would be the best brother John could ever wish for Sam. Hell, he was pretty bloody fantastic already.

"Dean, this can wait. You, on the other hand, can't…c'mon let's get you up…"

John grunted as he heaved his son's weight onto his side and looked at Sammy's sad, numb face.

"S'okay, Sam…Dean'll be fine. He's not feeling too well that's all…"

"I know…" Sam muttered under his breath. God, he was feeling guilty. Not only for not telling anyone when he knew Dean was sick, but because when Dean had really needed him, he had just stood there. Useless. Dean wouldn't have stood there. He'd have caught him.

"C'mon, let's get outta dodge, son…hang on, Deano," John murmured soothingly into his barely conscious son's ear.

Dean moaned shortly in response, grabbing his dad's knee as he doubled over and retched.

John sighed and rubbed his son's back in gentle circles. The sooner he got Dean home, the better.

He caught Dean around the waist as the vomiting rendered him exhausted.

"S'alright, son. Dad's here…"

He was about to pull Dean into his arms when he heard growling behind him.

Tentatively, Dean still clutched to his side he turned round, dreading what he was about to see before him.

The wolf howled loudly, its screech echoing throughout the dripping cave.

"Fuck" John breathed.

The growl became louder as it reared onto its hind legs. It was gonna strike.

"Sam, get out now, don't look back, just run as fast as you can…"

Sam gulped, his mouth dry.

"Sam…go…"

"But Dean…"

"I've got Dean, just run…"

Sam sniffed, and John knew that his little boy was terrified.

"Look, Sammy, I promise, me and Dean, we'll be right behind you, but what I really need you to do is get out…c'mon…go…"

Reluctantly, Sam moved back into the tunnel that led back to the entrance, not taking his eyes off his brother's limp body held upright by his dad's restraining eyes until he really had to.

John glanced round to check Sam was really gone.

He held Dean closer, tighter, refusing to let him go in his vulnerable state.

John could have released a hollow laugh there. Vulnerable and Dean…not quite a match made in heaven.

A bark reverberated throughout the damp cave and John stood his ground, unwilling to move for fear of startling the animal.

The bark morphed slowly into a dry, gruff laugh as John realised that he and Dean weren't the only humans in this cave.

A woman strolled out of the shadows, her head cocked back in maniacal laughter.

John was thrown into the wall, Dean's body forced from his grip. He winced as he heard the thwack as his eldest son flopped to the ground.

"Ah, Little Johnnie Winchester…enchante, my friend…" She swung her hips as she walked towards the hunter pinned to the side.

"Wish I could say it was a pleasure…" John retorted, spitting the plosive out of his mouth with nothing but venom in his voice.

"Well, that's not very nice is it?" she simpered, pouting at his as she stepped over Dean's motionless body and stood close to the eldest Winchester as he writhed against the wall.

"No use squirming, daddy-o, you ain't gonna get free…" She ran a delicate palm down his face.

Dean groaned loudly, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had fallen. His back arched as he tensed up, the pain wracking his body. Where was dad?

"Dean!" John struggled against the invisible force against his chest, feeling the gritty wall scrape against his back.

"Hmm, sweet as this is, its gonna have to stop."

With a flick of her wrist, Dean slid to the wall, a hollow thud echoing throughout the tunnels as his head smacked against the bottom.

John swallowed, seeing the blood ooze from his son's head, slowly painting the damp floor red.

"Hurts, don't it? Seeing your family die? In front of your eyes…you didn't even hesitate…my son…"

"Was a murdering bastard?" offered John, remembering the exact hunt in which he had killed this witch's son.

"Don't you even say a word about him…You are going to watch Dean die, and you won't be able to stop it, not until its too late, anyhoo…" she sighed mockingly.

"Your son killed 4 people. 4 innocent people, with families. People who loved them."

"I loved him…"

John clenched his fist in fame as pain pushed through his body.

"Son of a bitch has never been more true…" he growled.

He breathed through the onslaught of agony washing through his limbs. His nails dug into his palms as he clenched his fist tighter, knuckles going white. That's when the realisation hit him. He could move his arm.

_Keep her talking…_

"I wouldn't worry sweetheart, you're next…"

She guffawed.

"Have you met my familiar, Johnnie? Rex, this is John, John, meet Rex…he's been dying to meet you, Rex baby…" She stroked the wolf's head softly, grinning as his harsh bark grew louder.

Rex jumped at John, and John shouted angrily as he felt its teeth pierce his arm.

"Fuck!" he shouted.

He was forced against the arm tucked behind his back, and the struggle to reach the dagger in his back pocket was over for at least a moment until John finally threw the wolf off his arm, relieved as it slammed into the side, sliding down it, defeated. It wasn't coming back for more, yet, John was sure of that.

And for the first time, she looked worried. Re-plastering the infallible simpering grin, she licked her lips seductively as once again she approached John.

"Poor Rex…all he wanted was a bit of love…"

She thrust her hips against his, and he grimaced, repulsed by her too-sweet scent and the curl of her tongue against his neck.

"Get away from me, bitch!" He spat.

"Hmm, that hurts John... What would Mary say?"

He wrestled the dagger out and without a seconds hesitation, he plunged it into her stomach.

She stumbled back, hands patting against her belly and looking at them in disgust when they came away bloody.

She screamed as she fell to her knees.

"Love, only dogs can hear you now. Lucky, I s'pose…" John smiled at her as she lay on the floor, smoke billowing from her familiar's nose, as he fizzled away with the death of the witch.

He breathed slowly, as he pressed a hand against his arm, bleeding profusely. He really didn't feel all that well. But that wasn't important. His son's were waiting for him…they needed him.

He whirled around as quick as his shaking legs would allow, and ran to Dean's side, the gash on his forehead still leaking, covering Dean's face with blood.

"Dean? Dean? It's dad, c'mon, its all okay, now…"

He pulled Dean up into his arms, not happy with the unresponsiveness. It wasn't in Dean's nature to cause worry, but he sure was doing it now.

"Dean? Fuck, Dean? Please, c'mon, boy!"

Dean's breathing hitched and then the unimaginable happened. He stopped breathing altogether.

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_**Allow me a little artistic license here, as I do realise Kylie's Spinning Around was far later, but it's one of my fave bits , so please don't complain. Pretend all is well, and please don't get angry with me xxx**_

_TBC...**review** me and i might just write some more...please! _


	2. Chapter 2

_**Okies, this one is much shorter, but i didn't want to ramble at you xxx also thanks to everyone who has read this far, and to everyone who was kind enough to review the last chapter, please feel free to continue. I will try to keep up more, and i hope you enjoy...REVIEW though pretty please. As pretty as Dean's handsome face. hehe xx** (please do not complain at me for medical errors however, i'm sorry if i have made any, but just take it as artistic license again :) )_

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"No, no, no! Don't do this to me, son!"

John willed this to be a dream, a nightmare, and, had he had more time, he would have probably tried to pinch himself. Instead, he was forced with the immense reality that his first born son was dying in front of his eyes.

"Fuck…" he tilted Dean's head back, panic starting to cloud the training that was fighting to come to the forefront of his mind.

"Come on, John focus. Hunter now, not father. Dean ain't gonna die…focus…"

He muttered to himself as he pinched Dean's nose and breathed into his mouth watching his chest rise, and then fall, an artificial breath escaping Dean's lips.

"Nope, you take that, Dean. You breathe!"

He breathed again, and he could have collapsed right there, his heart plummeting to his feet as again, Dean remained unresponsive.

John started compressions, the seconds moving agonisingly slowly, but at the same time going far too fast. Tears creeped down John's face as he pummelled Dean's chest, interspersing the breaths at regular intervals.

"Dad?"

"Sammy, not now!"

"Dad?" Sam's voice wavered, terrified. Why wasn't Dean talking? Why was his dad growling and pressing his lips to Dean's? Was Dean dying?

"Sam, I told you to stay outside! GO!"

"Is he dying?" Sam sounded like he was about to be sick and John knew the feeling.

"Not on my watch. Come on, Dean! Breathe!" John wouldn't stop, he couldn't stop, his body becoming a little heavier by the second but he couldn't give in. He wouldn't give in until he felt that pump, until he felt that breath on the back of his hand.

"Is he dead?"

"SAM! Please…just go outside…I'm sorry son…but just go!"

The young boy's bottom lip trembled and he watched with watery eyes as his father continued to work on Dean. He didn't want to lose his big brother. He didn't want to be the oldest. He wouldn't be good enough.

He bit his lip, and walked out, his big innocent eyes betraying the horror he felt inside. He wanted Dean back. He needed Dean. He had only had ten years with him, and he wanted more. He wanted so much longer. But time was fading, fast.

"NO! Dean!" He heard his father's anguished cry echo off the wall, hitting him hard as he walked to the outside.

He turned back. Dad needed him, and he couldn't leave, not when Dean was dying.

He ran as fast as his little legs would carry him, his heart falling lower when he saw his father's slumped shoulders, heaving in loud and gruff sobs. Dean wasn't dying. Dean was dead.

"Dad?" Tears fell down Sam's face, and he begged his father to tell him it wasn't true. This was just a bad, bad nightmare. He looked into his dad's cold eyes and saw a look that he had seen only once before. And it was a look that had terrified him.

"_Howdy, John…"_

"_Shut the hell up. You are not doing any talking tonight. You are gonna fuckin' listen"_

"_Now, now, John, mind your language, delicate ears an' all,"_

_The demon nodded towards the small boy cowering in the doorway, his younger brother hiding beneath his arm. Neither of them understood this, only that they had heard raised voices. They thought something had happened to their dad._

"_Boys…you don't want to see this…go back to bed…" John said, kindly, hoping that his boys wouldn't hate him after this. This was going to be a pretty rough night after all, and they were too young. John wanted to protect their childhood for as long as he could. Too much had happened in their short lives already._

_He turned back to the demon, and he could have screamed at the smug, smirking face that laughed back at him._

"_Pity Mary trusted you…you should have saved her, John…I guess she was wrong…"_

_John lashed out, clenching his jaw as he heard the smack of his hand against the demon's face. _

_He heard a small sob escape from the corner, and he was ashamed to see his son's still standing there, Dean cuddling Sammy as he cried into his older brother's striped pyjamas._

_Swallowing his self hatred, he walked over to his sons, and placed a heavy hand onto Dean's shoulder._

"_I'm sorry boys. You shouldn't have seen that…Daddy's just…a bit angry…don't worry, we're all okay…go back to bed. I'll be there in a moment…I'm sorry…"_

_Dean nodded silently, his green eyes glistening with the tears he didn't want to shed. Sam looked up under the crook of his older brother's arm, and his chin wobbled as he saw the look in his dad's eyes. They weren't reflecting the gentleness of his voice, they were cold. Cold, grey chasms that did nothing but scream lost, and angry, hopeless hatred fluttering in them. Sam didn't like it. His dad never got angry. _

Sam understood now. That wasn't anger or hatred at all. That was worry, and loss and grief, all rolled into one, smothering his dad's heart.

"Dad?" he repeated, eyes glancing at Dean's pale form.

"Sammy…" he cried, pulling his son into a hug, a desperate embrace to feel something whole, to feel something alive.

"Dad, don't give in…Dean wouldn't…"

Sam released himself from his dad's iron grip and took the hard calloused hands in his own and placed them on Dean's chest. He looked into those icy eyes and put all the warmth that Dean put into his heart into his own and gazed as hard as he could. He had to help his dad.

John sighed, and leant forward, continuing his compressions, tears falling hard, making a small patter sound as they fell on Dean's jacket. He breathed into his mouth, knowing deep down that it was too late, but he owed this to Dean, he owed this to Sammy.

He repeated to process and his heart failed him as he heard a gasp from Dean and felt a weak throbbing beneath his eldest's chest.

"Plugh!" John exhaled, his feelings all spilling out at once, spluttering all over his son's writhing body. Dean was alive!

Sam leapt onto Dean's body, draping himself there, and John had to pull him off, worried that he would do more harm than good.

Dean coughed and there was no more time for celebration. They had to get out of here. Dean had been out, dead, for at least a minute, John had to get him checked over. There was no other way to do that than go to the hospital, come hell or shine.

"Dean? Son? Can you here me?" John said kindly, placing gentle hands on Dean's shoulders.

Dean moaned loudly, obviously out of it, his dad's voice reaching out to him in distorted bursts. He bit back a cry as pain pushed across his body again.

"Son, I've got to get you out of here…you're hurt and we need to get you to a hospital…"

Dean writhed and John gripped tighter, holding his son down.

"I know, Dean, I know, but we have no choice…you were d-…hurt…"

Dean opened his eyes to mere slits but the pleading was unmistakeable. John's heart swelled and almost burst. He hated seeing his son's in pain. They needed a mother now. One that he just couldn't be.

"Dean, this is going to hurt, but I need you to be brave for me…" John felt like slapping himself for asking such an impossible question.

Dean nodded weakly. There wasn't a part of him that didn't hurt right now, and all he really wanted to do was sleep…

"No, Dean…you have to stay awake…can't have a lazybones on my watch can I?" John tried to lighten the mood, but Dean's forehead was sweating with the pain, deep furrows making themselves known.

Closing his eyes, John loaded Dean into his arms, carrying like he had done when he was a baby. Dean watched him, and his eyes never left his dad's face. He needed the comfort.

"Dad?" Sam called out, softly.

"Sam, come on. Dean's back, we need to make sure he stays that way…"

"Dad? Can I just…go back to the motel tonight…y'know after we drop Dean off…?"

John didn't stop, although he really wanted to. He wanted to turn round, go back to Sam's side and pull him up into his arms but he couldn't. Dean was the priority now.

"Sam. No. Dean needs you right now. You did good kid. Come on, lets look after your brother," John said back to the small boy who was silently crying, needing his big brother's arm around his, like it usually was when he felt like this.

Sam ran after his dad, and placed an arm around the one behind Dean's back, grasping it tightly as if adding his own strength to the mixture.

"That's it, Sammy…let's get outta dodge…"

John almost ran to the car, placing Dean in the backseat, as gently as he could, and watching Dean's eyes slide closed. He was about to get in and wake him up but Sammy got there first.

Sitting in the footwell behind the driver's seat, Sam placed himself next to Dean's head, stroking his older brother's hair.

"Dean? Dean? You gotta wake up…dad says you're not allowed to sleep at the moment…open your eyes Dean…promise they won't fall out…"

Dean heard the sound of his brother's voice and forced his eyes open. He'd do anything for Sammy, even if it meant returning to a world of pain.

"That's it Dean. You look out for me…you'll never guess what I did at school, Dean…we had to talk about our heroes, and I talked about you and dad…we had to tell a story and…"

John stalled, his eyes welling up again as he heard Sam talking soothingly to his big brother. These boys had the most unbreakable bond. It was the greatest thing John could have ever hoped to come out of this great mess of a world.

Sam continued to distract Dean from all that pain that was invading his body.

John drove, breaking about 50 laws at the same time, driving as fast as the Impala would roar, until he finally saw the most satisfying lights ever. The lights of the hospital were glimmering up ahead. John was exhausted, feeling the stickiness of his arm as the bleeding slowed to a mere trickle. Dean's chest was adorned with the blood that had gushed from his dad's arm and Sammy hadn't seen the wound or the colour draining fast from his dad's face. The only reason John was still awake was because his sons were in trouble and the adrenaline was pumping.

John skidded into the car park, ignoring the beeps from the other drivers. All that mattered was his son.

He ran out of the car, stumbling briefly as he got out. He ran to the back seat, pulling gently, shouting for help, screaming for someone to save his son's life.

"HELP!"

Sam added his voice and both of them carried Dean into the ER, Dean's eyes closing as the pain overwhelmed him. Awake was no longer an option.

Dean was pried from his father's hands, Sam running after the gurney as it was shuttled down the corridor towards the ICU.

John swayed, unable to run, watching with a sorry heart as his son was taken away from him. He called weakly after Sam, trying to get him back but his head felt just that too much too light.

"Sir? Can we get your name? And your son? Does he have any conditions? How did he get like this?" The questions bombarded John's head far too fast, and his legs folded beneath him, his body falling limp as he could no longer control his consciousness.

"SIR?"


	3. Chapter 3

_The plot thickens. Can i just apologise for the LONG delay for this chapter. It took me a while to decide where this was going but hopefully it doesn't disappoint. I have had overwhelming support for this story, and i thank you all for such kind reviews, messages and such like. It means a lot._

_After the wait, i hope this is worth it :)_

_x_

_Enjoy ;)_

* * *

"Daddy"

John could here his youngest sobbing beside him, he could feel his little hands pressing down on his arm. He grimaced as the incessant beeping from beside him made his skull feel like a rope stretched to its limit. He moved his arm to press the alarm, guessing that Sam had had one of his irrational nightmares, the ones that always seemed to feature some hacked off clown. He sighed as he had to concede, his boy was weird.

However, his hand connected not with the alarm, but with something wholly more hairy and trembling.

"Srry, Sam…" he slurred, groggily.

"Dad?" the youngest Winchester cried hopefully. "You're awake?"

John swallowed, wondering why the hell his mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton.

"Hmm." He replied, gently brushing his hand across Sam's hand. He tried to sit up, but a shooting pain in his arm told him that that wasn't a viable option.

"Don't daddy…doc says you have to take it easy…I don't want to lose you…it was scary…"

John coughed and opened his eyes fully, glancing into the puffy face of his ten year old. He must have been like this for days. John ran a hand through Sam's fringe sighing, and wondering why he hadn't done this for so long.

_Because Dean always does it…_

"Sam, where's your brother?" he asked, keeping the fear at bay.

Sam gulped.

"You don't remember?" Sam's voice quivered.

"Son, I think that's more than freakin' obvious." He snapped at the young boy.

Sam bowed his head, and John immediately felt guilty, his hand flying to his son's shoulder.

Nothing was said, but Sam appreciated the gesture nonetheless. He wasn't alone anymore. He had been dreading this moment, but he had to believe that his dad could help.

"Dean's dead, dad."

John blinked.

"What?"

"I told you…he…died…" Sam was fighting back tears.

"Sam, tell me the truth!" John shouted, pushing past the pain to sit up, shaking Sam's shoulders.

"Dad, it is the truth…" Tears creeped out, as Sam's breath hitched. He'd been alone for a whole day. He'd watched his brother die, watched the doctors stop. He'd screamed at them to keep going, he'd been carried away kicking, raging at the doctors for stopping. Dean wasn't dead, he couldn't be.

He remembered walking into his father's room, unable to think, unable to stop crying.

"_Dad…wake up now…Dean needs us, please wake up…"_

_The room remained silent apart from the same bleep that echoed, again and again._

"_Damnit! Dad…wake up!" Sam cried, pushing his father's limp body._

_That did nothing but send the monitor into a long streamed beep._

_Doctors and nurses rushed in, and Sam cursed, fearing the loss of his father an hour since he lost his big brother. But the nurses soon found nothing wrong, and reset the monitor. _

_Sam collapsed into a chair, and held his head in his hands. He felt so alone._

_The doctor watched as the boy fell apart. He was too young, and it wasn't fair. He walked toward him and knelt at his side._

"_Sam, is it?" he asked, kindly._

_Sam nodded._

"_Your dad is going to be just fine, should be waking soon in fact…he lost a lot of blood that's all, his body needed the rest…"_

_Sam snorted, bitterly._

"_And Dean? He need the rest too?" Even at ten, he had a mouth that could rival his brother. He was haunted by a childhood that had been less than happy, despite the fact that John had tried to salvage the best family he could from the wreckage that had been left since Mary's death._

"_I know, son…it's hard. But maybe it was Dean's time…and you know, maybe he's not in pain anymore…"_

"_But I am," Sam whined, "It hurts so much…right here." He placed his hand over his heart unable to swallow the lump in his throat._

_The doctor's heart almost broke._

"_I know…I know it doesn't feel like it now, but it will get better. Each passing day will help you focus on the happy times with your brother…and I see a lot of families like yours, all of them manage in the end…and you know Dean would want you to be brave."_

_Sam shook his head._

"_He wouldn't…not now. He'd want me to carry on, not feel anything…but he'd want me to say goodbye properly…he wouldn't mind this time…not now."_

_The doctor smiled sympathetically._

"_You wanna go say goodbye now?"_

_Sam swallowed, but he shook his head again._

"_Need to wait for dad. He needs telling."_

"_Of course. You come find me when you guys are ready…"_

_Sam nodded as the doctor walked away._

_He approached his dad's bed, and sat in the chair beside him. He placed a hand on his arm and the tears started to fall._

"_Dad…"_

"No…he was…no…I…"

"Dad, he died. You carried him in, then you collapsed, cos of your arm and then…Dean died…they tried to help him, but …"

John turned to stare numbly ahead. He couldn't process this…His first born was dead. And he hadn't even said goodbye.

"Where is he?"

"Next door…the doctor said we could say goodbye when you woke up…"

"You've been alone this whole time?"

Sam sniffed.

"Yeah. I was okay" He was far from okay.

"Oh, Sam…I'm so sorry" He pulled his son into a tight hug, stroking his hair. Sam trembled, fighting back the sobs. He climbed onto his dad's bed and clung to him.

"I want Dean…" he panted.

"I know, son, I know…" John's voice cracked and he couldn't stop the tears any longer. They fell into his son's long hair, and he brushed them away.

A knock at the door tore them from their grief.

"I'm sorry to disturb, but…we need to check you over, sir." The nurse said politely, a pained, broken smile etched on her face.

John nodded, and wiped away his son's tears.

"It's okay, Sam…we'll go say goodbye to your brother…"

Sam's breaths came short and hitching. He wanted his brother back so much it hurt. Hurt worse than anything Sam had ever felt before.

He watched as the nurse gave his dad the once over, smiling that everything was okay. She'd fetch the doctor just to let him know.

Sam bit the inside of his cheek, as his felt his dad's gaze bore into him.

"Good to see you awake, Mr Winchester."

John cast a worried look at his son, and knew that Sam hadn't been able to think straight enough to come up with a fake name. Hell, John couldn't expect that of a ten year old, especially a ten year old that had just watched his brother die.

John smiled weakly.

"Can I see my son?" he whispered.

The doctor bowed his head.

"Of course. I'll get you a wheelchair brought in."

"No, it's fine, I'll walk." John almost wanted to feel pain, something to make him go through what Dean did.

"It's no troub-"

"No. I will walk…" He was resolute.

Sam rushed to his dad's side and helped ease him off the bed. Wincing a little, John stepped forward, and his youngest, and now only child stayed at his arm. Together they stumbled down the cold, plastic corridor, every step taking them closer to their lost relative.

Taking a deep breath, Sam moved forward to open the door. The room was empty apart from one bed. Monitors had been pushed to the side, and a sheet had been drawn over the bed. John could barely comprehend that it covered the dead body of his son.

He stood at the door. He couldn't do this. His son was dead. He'd failed to do the one thing he had pledged to do the moment Mary had set the young boy in his arms. He swore that he would never let anything bad happen to his sons, that he would put himself in front of anything that threatened his sons, but at the time when Dean was really in trouble, really dying, John hadn't been there.

He trudged forward to the bed, and held Sam's shoulder to steady himself. Sam looked up into his father's haunted, grizzled face and he bit his lip. John nodded his reassurance and Sam leaned over the body to pull up the sheet.

Dean was so pale. He looked so cold. His beautiful eyes were closed, and John gasped a little, a breath escaping like a sob, as the peace of his son's face made him grieve more. He looked so much like Mary. He looked so sweet, and young, and innocent. You'd never know the life that this young boy had had. So full of cruelty, revenge, hell. Dean had barely known anything else, and somehow he managed to creep through it, help his father when he needed it most, and even now, lying dead on the trolley, John could feel something like comfort coming from his eldest. It didn't matter that it didn't stop the turmoil gushing through his entire body at knowing his son was gone forever.

"Oh, Dean…" John bit his lip, and placed a hand on his cold son's forehead.

He sank to his knees beside the bed, Sam backing off to let his dad have this moment. There was barely anything left to cry, and Sam tried to ignore the stabbing pains in his stomach. He wanted Dean back.

"I am so sorry, son…" He ran his hand through his short hair.

"I should've been here, I should have got you…I…I-I"

"We love you." Sam interrupted, coming to sit beside his father, his hand upon his knee.

John closed his eyes.

"I-I…I…can't…." he breathed, hot tears burning down his cheek.

Sam swallowed.

"What dad means is, he can't say goodbye to you Dean. We can't…you have no idea how much pain this is causing us, bro…it hurts so much, I just want to die…"

John looked at his youngest, worriedly. But Sam carried on.

"But we have to carry on fighting, isn't that right? That's what you'd say, right? And we will, but right now, we have to…mourn…I love you…I feel sick without you. I wish you were here. And I'm really sorry that I never saw this one, never helped, cos I should have known. And this thing. It will be my last hunt. I don't want to fight if your not there with me."

John grabbed his youngest's arm.

"What?" he snapped.

"Dad, I won't. I don't care any more. Dean's dead cos of this...."

"No, Sam. This thing? Your supposed last hunt? Are you telling me that Dean's death was supernatural?"

Sam nodded weakly.

"No. No, no, no…" John released his hold on Sam's forearm.

"He was really sick, and it was so sudden, and last night, just before he…died…well, I heard something. I saw something…"

"What did you see?!"

"Dad…he's dead…we can't do anything. I don't want to."

"Sam!" John warned.

"DAD!" Sam shouted back. "Dean was a hunter through and through. He loved it; he loved being someone you were proud of. But it doesn't mean that he wants us to go on doing such a horrible job. He'd rather we were happy, dad."

"Shut up…" John breathed. "Don't say a word, Sammy. If you saw something _unnatural _kill Dean, tell me now. Or don't ever speak to me again."

Sam's lip quivered and he didn't know what to do. Why did grief always send his father on some distorted quest for revenge?

"It was an old woman…she was…frail…and I dunno, I went sort of cold when she walked past me."

"She saw Dean?"

"She came from his room…"

"And then?"

"And then, there was a code blue called…and then, Dean died." Sam murmured.

John half smiled.

"Did you hear anything? Any incantations…"

"No but she was like…in this trance. Like sleepwalking with her eyes open…and whispering about something."

"What?"

"Something about being hypnotised. Which I guessed she was to be honest. I didn't take that much notice cos the next minute Dean was dead."

"Dean's not dead."

Sam looked up sharply.

"Dad, don't start."

"Sammy, Dean isn't dead…he's not good, but he's not dead."

"But he…but…"

John ran a hand across Dean's arm and looked once again at his youngest son.

"Dean isn't dead."

Sam ran to him, and for that moment, it didn't matter how, or why, all that mattered was that they hadn't lost the one person that kept them going. Dean was alive!

TBC


End file.
